


Commemoration

by TourmalineQueen



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-26
Updated: 2014-03-26
Packaged: 2018-01-17 03:08:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1371667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TourmalineQueen/pseuds/TourmalineQueen





	Commemoration

The prompt: _Dragon Age: Origins, Alistair/Warden, commemorating Ostagar_

The King declared the day one of remembrance. No business was to be conducted, families who had lost loved ones were sent letters of condolence (all of which he had read and signed personally in the weeks before), and the King kept to his quarters. All the servants knew better than to try to actually serve him when he was morose like this: with the best intentions in Thedas, they knew they were as likely to be thanked as bitten for disturbing him.

He didn't bother dressing that day, just sat in his study in the linen braies he wore to bed, flicking through a book or two, and trying not to remember. Alistair did not like to remember, although he knew it was important that Ferelden do so. Huffing out an irritable breath, he tossed the book aside after twenty minutes of reading the same sentence and taking none of it in. He stood and stretched, hands clasped above his head, leaning first left, then right, and finally twisting almost all the way around to work the kinks out.

He started when he heard the study door close and the lock click. Turning, he reached for his father's longsword that he kept nearby at all times, only relaxing when he saw the honey-brown hair that belonged to the Arlessa of Amaranthine, the Paragon of Orzammar, his love Natia Brosca. He gave a sad, half smile as he watched the Paragon Arlessa make her way under the weight of a tray laden with enough food to keep two Warden appetites satisfied.

"You know, Alistair, you ought to worry more about the state of your Castle's security. I got into the Castle, and the pantry, and your quarters without a single soul stopping me," she remarked as she placed the tray on his desk, crushing at least one tome of Fereldan history as she did so. He was fairly certain she hadn't seen the book because she'd been staring at his chest, and his lips twitched in amusement.

Alistair shrugged. "I have Maric's sword."

"It's _your_ sword, and has been since we went back to Ostagar," she pointed out. "You can call it yours if you like."

Alistair blithely ignored her, and reached for the Orlesian cheese and some cracker breads to eat with it.

"I don't understand about Surfacers and anniversaries," she commented again. "And Name-Days and such, but I thought Varel could use a break from Oghren and Sigrun, and... And I don't know what I should do, now."

Alistair looked over at her, her eyes unusually uncertain and sad, and took hold of her hand, squeezing her fingers gently.

"Being here with me is all I need," he said quietly. "And maybe laugh at my bad jokes."

"Like old times."

"Just like." Alistair gave her a small smile.

"And... And we'll remember?" Natia asked.

"Yes. We'll remember."

She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him close.


End file.
